


Consume

by MamaMystique



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Smut, dark!Bedelia, pretty much pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 19:04:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1699214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaMystique/pseuds/MamaMystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bedelia has grown bored.  Mostly with Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consume

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, this ship has ruined my life. I love the idea of Murder Queen Bedelia, and that she and Hannibal get up to all sorts of mayhem in Europe. So, yeah. This is PWP of that idea.

Bedelia had been growing restless.

When Hannibal had finally settled them in Italy after he deemed it safe to do so, creating trails and false leads throughout Europe to ensure their secrecy, they had assumed the aliases of Doctors Mr. and Mrs. Fell.  And though Bedelia had previously found herself quite content to happily embrace the solid walls of solitude, in the presence of Hannibal she found herself rather bored. 

It both was and wasn’t Hannibal’s fault.

He tried his best to provide her with things to entertain herself, rare books, paintings, antiquities, and instruments, but something in Bedelia itched whenever he presented her with a new accessory to play with inside the great halls of their residence. She tried her best to show her appreciation, but she knew Hannibal could tell something wasn’t quite right. He was doing well in his seclusion, visiting his mind palace and staying lost there for hours, happily. He composed for her, drew for her, and cooked.  Everything for him was perfect; or nearly so.

“You’ve become safe.” She said simply one day, staring out the great window from the couch she had draped herself across as he played the harpsichord.  The sounds of Bach stopped, echoing throughout the halls as his fingers hovered above the keys.

He turned slowly to her, watching as she focused her gaze on the skyline, her form languidly stretching as she propped her head on one of the arms of the couch. She was wearing the new dress he had bought her, a dark green number that fell beautifully across her chest and accentuated the deep, long lines of her neck.  Hannibal watched as she thought, her eyes locked as her mind twisted and formed what she wanted to say.  “I’m bored,” she finished without hesitation, “with you.”

A small, wicked smile pulled across Hannibal’s features lightly.  Bedelia never failed to surprise or please him.  He had tried to be careful with her, tried to reassure her of his intentions, always being a gentleman.  “How so?” Bedelia didn’t respond. “I have brought you many things,” he continued, “have they displeased you?”

“You treat me like I am about to shatter, Hannibal.”  Bedelia finally dragged her gaze to his.  “I am tired of being handled like a precious artifact.  I know what you do.  I know what you are.  And yet you insist on this domesticity.”

Hannibal bowed his head. “Would you prefer to leave?”

Bedelia threw back her head and laughed.  “Look at you. Look at yourself.  This isn’t you.”

“I care to disagree.”

“This isn’t the you I came to appreciate,” she amended.

Hannibal quirked an eyebrow at her, and for a moment _that_ look flicked across his eyes.  Bedelia breathed in deeply, acutely aware of her heart beating inside her chest. “There.  That’s better.”

“As your colleague,” he began, but he was swiftly cut off by Bedelia’s sigh.

“Colleague. So that is what you continue to view me as.”

Hannibal fell silent for a moment.  “We are not friends. You yourself made that clear.”

“I’m not your psychiatrist either.  So then what are we, Hannibal?  Why do you continue to withdraw?”

“Why did you agree to come with me?”

Bedelia settled into the couch, tracing circles over the fabric of the couch with her right hand. “You showed up at my door covered in blood.  Several people’s blood. I thought you were going to kill me, but instead you asked me to come with you.”

“You would prefer it if I killed you?”

A smiled pulled at Bedelia’s lips.  “I was thrilled by you, Hannibal. You intrigued me most then, when I couldn’t predict you.  You scared and aroused me, and I prefer that delicate balance to the act we have now.”

Hannibal stood, making his way to the couch to sit by her feet.  He ran his thumb across the skin of her exposed ankle, watching as goose bumps erupted across the small area of flesh above his touch. 

“What do you want from me, Bedelia?”

“I want you to stop restraining yourself for my sake.  I want you to be dangerous.  I want you to surprise me.”

Hannibal hesitated, fought with himself, let his tongue flicker across his lips. “Surprise you how?”

Bedelia twisted herself so that her back was on the couch, her head propped up by the pillows. Arching her spine, she slipped the left shoulder of her dress down and off, then the right. She peeled the fabric down her chest, exposing her breasts, feeling her nipples pebble as she settled back into the pillows.  He stared at her then as she wanted him to, with a hunger she couldn’t read.  Her breath grew heavy as his eyes watched the rise and fall of her chest.

“You brought me with you for a reason.  Decide what that reason was. Leave me here or devour me, but for God’s sakes Hannibal stop-“

She gasped as he cut her off, a searing kiss pressed to her lips, his tongue swiping across hers. A soft groan escaped his lips as she gripped his back, her nails scraping against his dress shirt.  He hesitated then, pulling back, watching to see if she would break.  A flush had bloomed across her exposed skin, her pupils blown wide.

“That’s a good start,” Bedelia laughed breathlessly at his silent question.  Suddenly she took ahold of his shoulders, using his distraction to roll them both to the floor.  He landed on his back, a ragged breath torn from his mouth as she pressed herself atop him, his hands in a bruising grip on her hips.  She bent down to kiss him, her back hunching as she drew his hands up to her chest, letting them cup her breasts.  A small moan escaped her as his thumbs pressed up under her nipples meeting his index finger and pinching them as she ground her hips against his stomach in response.

Their mouths locked again as Hannibal swallowed her groan, sitting up and sliding a strong arm under her to keep her above him.  Her lips slid from his as he brought his head level with her chest, scraping his teeth across her right nipple before nipping at the flesh below it.  Bedelia’s hands shot out, one helping her balance by gripping the couch, the other fiercely tugging his hair, fingers disheveling him as she pushed him closer to her.  He bit her again, harder, closer to the base of the swell of her breast, and she threw back her head and released a guttural moan that echoed deeply throughout the house.  

The skin of her breast became swollen and red under his teeth as he created a trail up her chest, his right hand brutally pinching her neglected nipple as his tongue flickered into the hollow of her throat.  He tasted her then, the acidity of the perfume she wore, the sweat just beginning to form, the frantic pulsing of her blood beneath the thin skin. 

“Bedelia,” he whispered as she grinded her pelvis against him again, trying desperately to create friction. His hand that wasn’t supporting her left her nipple, tracing down the fabric of her dress until fingers entwined themselves in the hem.  Dragging the fabric up slowly, he bunched it around her waist.  “Your apparent attraction to danger brings up some interesting questions in regards to your history.”  His voice was thick and lazy, his eyes dark.

Bedelia released a frustrated groan as she gripped his idle hand and brought his fingers to her core. She was soft and wet beneath the fabric of her underwear, and her head rolled back as one of his fingers sought out the swell of her clitoris.  “Our history,” she corrected, unabashedly pushing against him, “and yes, I know.”

He pressed a kiss to the bottom of her jaw then, letting her feel his smile.  “You are beautiful.”  He addressed her drive, her intelligence, her body.  _Perhaps_ , he entertained as his fingers slipped aside her underwear and slid through her eager folds, _she wouldn’t betray him_. Bedelia had more than proved herself once to him, but he had never thought that she would return there willingly. Sure, she had continued to associate with him from a removed stance, but he never expected her longing to-

“Move,” she ordered breathlessly, and he responded with a quick flick to her clit.  She cried out, her head hanging forward as her hair came to spill over her shoulders.  He removed his hand entirely, coming to cradle her back as he lifted her back to the couch. She landed with a thud, her head slamming against the thin back cushions.  He moved to stand, but her legs were quickly around his shoulders, urging him back down. Hannibal nipped her thigh as he settled on his knees, growling as she reached out and pulled him by his hair. “Don’t think I’m just yours to play with, Hannibal,” she spoke, her voice low and dangerous. “I’m not blind to you. You will not treat me as such.”

Hannibal realized then exactly the extent of what she desired.  It wasn’t just sex; Bedelia was never ruled by carnal wants. Nor did she want to study him, after all, what didn’t she already know?  “You want me to show you,” he whispered as he pressed his nose to her stomach, “you want to become part of it.  Part of what I am.”

“Yes.”  He voice was still breathy, but possessed. When he looked up over the curve of her body, she was truly gorgeous.  A wicked, wanting look on her face betrayed the monster that still resided within her, the one who he had pushed but not created.  Bedelia’s darkness was her own, and he found himself again seduced by her possibilities.  If she was truly willing to expose it herself, and to expose it to him…his teeth were sharp and glittering as a snarl pulled his mouth at the excitement of what she was offering.  Not control, or curiosity.  A partnership. It was more than Hannibal had hoped for when he took her away. 

“I am pleased that I did not kill you.” 

Bedelia released a vicious, throaty laugh that chilled the air around them.  “I am glad you finally figured that out.”  It was only a flash, but Hannibal could have sworn that the shadows of the setting sun danced across the couch to give her a beautiful set of black, cruel antlers.  Their image was shattered as he ripped away the fabric of her underwear, the scent of her arousal overwhelming as she arched her head back in anticipation.

Hesitation and caution set aside for the dark goddess above him, he enveloped her clit between his lips and lightly scraped his teeth over the bud.  She all but howled as she pushed herself up on her arms, her head falling back, her chest reaching towards the ceiling.  Hannibal eagerly pressed his nose against her clit as his tongue licked at her folds, letting the scent of her seep into him, surround him, consume him. His head tilted as he kissed her entrance, his teeth nipping at her.  Bedelia’s fingers came to rest on her clit as he insinuated his tongue inside her, and he watched her as she began to rub the neglected swell furiously. He studied her motions, noting as she pressed hard from left to right, rolling it with a fierce pressure. She moaned above him, and he closed his eyes as he shifted his hips, realizing how painfully hard he was.  Hannibal's tongue flicked inside of her, reaching and folding relentlessly, savoring her.  

Her pattern memorized, Hannibal gripped her wrist tightly and removed her fingers from her clit. She whimpered, straining her hips for him. 

“Hannibal,” she whispered, her legs sliding off his shoulders easily as he finally stood.  Bedelia closed her eyes and stretched as she listened to his belt clattering to the floor.  Opening her eyes again, she surged forward and ripped the bottom buttons of his dress shirt open. Dragging her teeth across the muscle of his stomach, Hannibal struggled to free himself from his pants.

“Bedelia,” he warned as she nipped lower, her hands joining his as they forced the confines of his clothes down, freeing him finally.  She felt him pressed against her chest, hard and hot, and she brought her delicate fingers up to stroke him. 

“Bedelia,” he warned again, bringing his hands down to stop her motions, but she responded by letting her tongue drag down the length of him.  He groaned loudly as he grabbed her hair, caught between trying to stop her and urge her on.  Her free hands came to remove his grip from her, forcing them down by his sides as she bent forward and took the tip of him in her mouth.  His cock was heavy and pulsing between her lips, and he looked down at her desperately. “Please,” he broke, and she withdrew with a triumphant grin across her cheeks.  She bit him gently below his abdomen, her hands releasing his and steering him to sit next to her on the couch.

Hannibal had barely a moment to sit before Bedelia straddled him, gripping his cock and guiding him in to her. They both moaned as she sunk down fully, eyes fluttering close as she took him inside her.  Her slick muscles pulsed around him, and Hannibal balled his hands into fists as she adjusted. 

Bedelia made a small experimental thrust against him, shifting her hips forward before she took Hannibal’s hands and placed them on her sides.  He gripped her hard, fingers tangling in the dress that still bunched around her waist. Her hands splayed underneath what remained of his shirt, grasping the firm muscles of his shoulders, and she nodded.

It was with a barely controlled frenzy that Hannibal began pumping inside of her, guiding her small form atop him.  Bedelia keened, pressing forwards as he entered her again and again, helping him hit her g-spot. Hannibal watched her above him, watched her long hair bounce on her shoulder, watched the dying sunlight from the large window light her from behind.  She looked as if she was on fire, like she was burning.  He knew at once that Bedelia would completely consume him, that she would torture him even as she cared for him.  Hannibal found himself pleased at the thought, and let her presence swallow him. 

One of his hands moving from the harsh grip on her waist, he began to rub her clit exactly as she had before. Hannibal could feel himself closing in, and wanted her to be there with him, wanted her to understand what he would offer her. 

“Oh, Hannibal, oh, I’m-“

Bedelia’s nails dug into his shoulders as he thrust into her again, strong fingers pinching and rolling her clit, and she came.  A scream tore through her bones as she fell into him, her muscles quivering around his cock as her arousal slipped down the inside of her thigh.  Bedelia collapsed against him as Hannibal forced himself to slow his thrusts, trying to give her time.  Bedelia shuddered against his chest as she guided his hand back to her hip, nodding again. Hannibal’s grip seared her skin as he resumed his erratic pace, thrusting through the slowing contractions of her body.

Bedelia kissed him then, her tongue asserting its dominance against his panting breath, and he closed his eyes. 

She swallowed the cry that tumbled out of his mouth as he came, something that might have resembled her name, catching him as he sagged beneath her.  They slid onto the couch, Hannibal breathing deeply as she stretched atop him, letting him slip from within her. 

When his eyes finally opened again, Bedelia was watching him with her head pressed against his chest. Hannibal wrapped his arms around her and held her there, relishing her content and predatory gaze.

A single trail of sweat ran down Hannibal’s brow, and Bedelia watched as it tumbled down his temple. Stretching forward, she lazily dragged her tongue across the bead, her hands settling on his throat.

In that moment, Hannibal swore that she would strike, that she would snap his neck and be done with him. He couldn’t bring himself to fight her though, and he remained still under her grasp as she licked his skin. Hannibal felt like a prize insect, stuck in the great web of a spider who stroked and caressed him, debating where to begin her meal.  His heart pounded beneath his ribs.

“I hope I am no longer boring you,” he offered to the silence of the moment. 

Bedelia’s hands released his neck as she smiled.  “We’ll see.” Her finger wound itself around a strand of his disheveled hair. 

The spider struck, and consumed him whole.


End file.
